High School Again? Ugh! Ch. 03

"Okay," Mike said as Sarah was led out to him. She'd obviously been crying. Tara stooped down and hugged the girl briefly before handing her off to Mike. He carried the Sarah out of the horror that was her home.

"In here please," the detective said, directing us to the kitchen. "John, have a seat."

I sat at the table while Tara was led into another room by someone else in a suit. The detective proceeded to ask me a barrage of questions. Things like, "When was the last time I saw Rodger?" "Did you know Rodger was having trouble at home?" Did he seem different recently?" And so on. The questions went on for a long time.

"Do you have any idea why Rodger would have mentioned you in his suicide note?" detective Gomez asked.

"Not really," I replied. "We were friends, but no closer than I guess most high school friends are." I was telling the truth as far as high school went, but I neglected to mention the time we worked together later in life where we actually grew pretty close despite being an employee and employer. After all, I didn't want him to think I was crazy. "What does the note say?"

"It's not all that coherent," the detective sighed, obviously done with the questions for the time being. "Do you mind taking a look at it?"

Tara was led back in the room and sat next to me. It looked like she's gone through the same questions I had with her detective, only hers kept giving me odd looks. I wondered what she'd said.

"No," I replied. "I don't mind if you think it will help." Detective Gomez frowned.

"You're both eighteen, but do you want me to call your parents so that they can be here with you?" he asked. I noticed that he waited until after he was done with his questions to offer to get our parents.

"It's not necessary," I frowned. "Although I would like to call them and let them know I'm okay."

"Go ahead," the detective said, pointing toward the phone. He then turned to Tara and asked, "What about you?"

"I'm fine," she replied.

The conversation with my mother was short. She'd heard about Rodger already. We lived in a small town and news traveled fast. I told her that I'd be home late. She seemed unhappy, but not really worried. I explained to her that the police were questioning a bunch of Rodger's friends.

"Let's take a look at that note," I said as I hung up the phone. The detective handed over a plastic bag holding it. I smoothed out the plastic with Tara's help. The note read:

"I'm guilty of murder. Two actually. Wait, or it is just one? You can't be tried for killing the same man twice, but that doesn't mean I'm not guilty of it. This is so confusing."

"I guess I'm responsible for three deaths, not counting my own. I left Sarah to the monster when I went away to college, knowing how bad it could get. I was just so happy for my own escape."

"Poor little Sarah, dead by her own hand because of a monster and a fool who left her to him. Her death is on my head, but I wonder? Should I be counted as her murderer too since deep down I had to know what the monster would do to her eventually?"

"My vengeance was sweet, or so I told myself. I took months to plan it out. I was so smart! I killed the monster and no one was the wiser, except for me. Yet even after his death, the guilt over Sarah remained. I pushed it away and told myself it was gone, but it was there deep inside."

"And then a miracle happened! A chance to relive my mistake and stop it from happening. Yet, when I saw Sarah again my guilt flooded back and I realized the truth. Even if I saved my little sister this time, I'd still failed the first and nothing could erase that. A man is a product of his past, even if it no longer exists. I can't live with mine. Not with it staring me in the face with Sarah's pretty green eyes."

"I hope Simmons is enjoying his trip down memory lane better than I did. I guess his couldn't be worse. I expect John will be fine eventually. He always was a pragmatic bastard. Besides, I don't expect that his closet has nearly as many skeletons."

"Mom, take care of Sarah and no more falling in love with monsters. She deserves better. So do you."

I finished the note and shook my head. Rodger hadn't only confessed to murdering his father today, but in our world too. I had no idea how to handle what I'd just learned.

"Does it make any sense to you?" the detective asked.

"Other than that the monster is obviously his father and Rodger feels guilty, no not really," I lied. What else could I do?

"Do you know what he means by 'trip down memory lane'?" the detective asked me. "Or why he mentions you specifically?" I only had one choice here. More lies. The detective wasn't going to be happy with a no. I needed to keep it simple, but first I had to figure what 'it' was going to be.

"The last time I saw Rodger was the first day of school," I said. He nodded. We'd gone over that already. "We talked about it being senior year. We joked about some of the stuff that had happened over the last few years, but I don't see how this has anything to do with that."

"What kind of stuff?" the detective asked.

"Stuff like when Sammy Dresnik came to school with his shirt on backwards and no one told him until third period," I replied. "Or when the lacrosse team pants Tommy Bennet while he was talking to Christine Feinsten, one of the prettiest girls in school."

"You have to give Tommy credit," Tara put in. "He just picked up his shorts, gave Christine a look that basically said 'excuse my friends' and continued talking."

"Tommy is something else," I nodded in agreement. Tara and I smiled briefly at the shared memory.

"And nothing you two talked about could be related to Rodger's death?" Detective Gomez asked.

"I don't see how," I replied. "We really didn't talk about much more than I already told you."

"Kid, what are you hiding?" the detective that spoke with Tara asked.

"Pardon?" I asked in reply. Detective Gomez frowned, but let his partner take the lead.

"Something you two talked about must have bothered you," he said, watching me carefully. "Because not long afterward, you disappeared. You cut school."

'Is that all that's bothering him,' I thought in relief. I figured that would come up eventually. Time for more lies.

"That had nothing to do with Rodger," I said, trying to keep my tone level and unrushed, but not too controlled. "I cut school because of girl problems. I mean, I told him that my girlfriend Tiffany and I were probably going to break up, but I don't see how that could lead to this."

"And why did you and she break up?" the detective asked. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like this cop very much at all. I guess it was his turn to play bad cop.

"I don't see how that's relevant," I said.

"Humor me," the detective insisted.

"Fine," I sighed. "Tiffany was falling in love with someone else. I could see it even if they both refused to admit it."

"Brad?" Tara asked. I nodded. "I heard you and Tiffany broke up, but I didn't realize it was because of Brad."

"We were growing apart anyway," I sighed.

The questions continued for quite a while, but I stuck to my story and eventually they let us both go, but not without taking down our contact information.

"Well, that was fun," I said as we walked back to Mike's house.

"It's all just so sad," Tara put in.

'You have no idea,' I thought. This was Rodger's wish, to be young again and relive high school. Yet, a week after it happens he murders his father and kills himself. My guess is that the first was deserved, but the second? Why hadn't he called me and tried to talk it out? Why hadn't I tried harder to talk to him?

We touched base with Mike and found out that Sarah was sleeping. Her mother had been released by the police as well and was lying down with the little girl. I felt for them. I knew that in his tormented mind, Rodger had done what he thought was best for them, but it was all just so sad.

Tara and I stayed for a little while, but the place was getting crowded with people stopping by as they heard the news. I wouldn't have let them all in, but it wasn't my place to stop them. We helped Mike and his mom keep them away from Mrs. Williams and Sarah. It was amazing how callous some people could be when they tried to comfort someone.

Mike's father eventually got home and it was time to go. He saw the number of people in his house and politely asked everyone to leave. I'd always liked him. The house emptied slowly. Tara and I were two of the last to go.

"Are you going to be okay?" Tara asked me as we drove off.

"I knew something was wrong with Rodger," I said. "I should have made more of an effort to contact him."

"Whatever Rodger was going through," she said. "I doubt a few kind words would have made a difference."

"I'm not so sure," I sighed.

"This is not your fault," Tara insisted.

A part of me almost believed. Hell, I wanted to believe her, but the problem was that I was the one person who might have been able to head what happened off. If I'd only known! I thought Rodger was off having a great time. What a fool I was!

"Do you want me to take you home?" Tara asked when I didn't say anything for a while.

"Not yet," I said. "I'm not ready to face my parents."

"Okay, we can go to my house for a little while," she said. I frowned and shook my head.

"No," I said.

"Why not?" Tara asked in surprise. I wondered at the answer to her question myself. It wasn't hard to figure out.

"Because your father likes me right now," I explained. "And I don't want a nosy neighbor telling him you had me over while he was out of town."

"What difference does it make?" she asked. I looked at her. Tara was watching the road, but she glanced my way every once in a while as she waited for my answer.

I'd always thought Tara was beautiful, but right at this moment it was more than that. A part of me thought it had been ever since I returned to high school. The connection I was supposed to have with Tiffany as the love of my life was gone, if it ever existed in the first place. Instead, I was inexplicable drawn to Tara and had been since the moment I first saw her again. I shook my head. Now was not the time for this.

"Tara, ask me that again in a couple of weeks," I said. I couldn't do it to her, not now, probably not ever. I couldn't get involved with her. I was screwed up. Okay, maybe not as bad as Rodger, but not good either.

I was more alone at the moment then I'd ever been in my entire life. I wanted desperately to hold onto Tara and not let go, but it wouldn't have been fair to her. She was an eighteen-year-old girl with her whole life ahead of her.

"Where to?" Tara asked.

"Just drop me off in town," I replied. "I think I need to get good and drunk."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Especially considering that your parents are already mad at you?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," I replied.

I was tired of walking on eggshells around my parents. I was tired of playing high school student. I guess the short of it was that I was just plain tired.

We drove into town in silence. I guess Tara read my mood easily enough. She was always a perceptive girl. I tried hard not to stare at her as we went. I tried hard not to let her see my need for her. Tara pulled into a parking spot in front of a bar I knew.

"You want company?" Tara asked.

"No," I said a little to abruptly.

"Oh okay," she said, sounding hurt. I opened the door, but couldn't leave it like that. I couldn't leave her like that. I shut the door and looked at her. She looked back at me. I wasn't sure what I could say to her to make her understand.

"I'm sorry for being short. There are things going on that I need to work through," I finally got out. "Crazy things."

"Related to Rodger?" she asked.

"Yes and no," I sighed.

"You understood more about his suicide note than you told the police, didn't you?" Tara asked slowly.

"Yes," I answered honestly. "But they wouldn't have believed me if I told them the truth. Neither would you."

"Try me?" she offered.

"Maybe one day," I sighed. "Don't worry. I may not have told the cops everything, but the note only verifies that Rodger killed his father and himself. My explanation wouldn't change anything."

"I believe you," Tara said.

"Good," I smiled sadly and then started to get out of the car.

"Johnny?" Tara called, putting her hand on my arm and stopping me.

"Yes?" I asked, turning back to her. Tara leaned forward and kissed me. I couldn't stop myself from responding. It lasted for a long time.

"What you know might not change anything," she said afterward. "But it's obviously bothering you and you need to share it with someone. I'm here when you're ready to talk."

"Thanks," I said, but I doubted I'd ever tell Tara. I couldn't tell anyone. They'd think I was crazy, and truthfully, I'm still not sure that they would be wrong.

I slipped out of the car and walked into the bar. I heard her drive off. I didn't have a lot of money on me, but I drank until it ran out. I was just about to get up and leave when one of the games on television caught my eye. The pitcher was the team's star closer and as I watched the batter rip a line drive that hit him hard. The pitcher went down.

"Oh yeah!" one of the guys at the bar cried. "We got this game now."

"Damn," another guy said, obviously routing for the visiting team.

I frowned as I watched. It came to me slowly. I remembered this game! I'd watched it with my father the first time. Okay, I didn't remember it all, but I remember the pitcher getting hit and I remember my father saying the guy was done. I also remembered what happened next.

'I wonder if pop is at home watching it now?' I thought.

"They'll have to bring Finnegan in," the visiting fan said. "Any bets on what will happen then?" I smiled. I was thirsty and a little drunk.

"Finnegan isn't coming in," I said. "Brillian is going to get up and finish pitching the game. He's a tough son of a bitch." Which was exactly what my father called Brillian when he did get up all those years ago and whip our boys. It was why I remembered. Pop didn't curse very often, especially not back then.

"No way!" the first guy cried, but a few minutes later Brillian stood and threw a few pitches to make sure he was okay.

"Alright!" the visiting fan cried. "We got this now."

"I'm not so sure," the first guy said. "Brillian has to be hurting."

"I bet twenty bucks that he not only finishes the game, but strikes the last two batters out?" I offered.

"You're on," the visiting fan grinned. "It's a no lose situation for me. Worse case, my teams loses and I win twenty bucks."

"Or my team loses and I win twenty bucks," I grinned. Ten minutes later I was twenty bucks richer. The guy was so happy that his team won that he even bought me a drink.

I was pretty drunk when I saw my father making his way over from the front door. He frowned when he saw me and I fully expected to him to start lecturing.

"I'm sorry to hear about Rodger," pop said as he collected me, and that was it. He led me to the car and put me in it.

"How did you know where to find me?" I asked, slurring slightly.

"A girl named Tara called and told me," he answered. "She said you'd be needing a ride home."

"I love Tara," I grinned stupidly.

"What happened to Tiffany?" my father asked.

"She's a cheating slut!" I snapped, but then frowned and remembered that this Tiffany never did cheat on me here. "Besides, Brad loves her."

"Teenagers," my father sighed loudly. I couldn't agree with him more. "Lets get you home and in bed."

**********

It was a beautiful day as Rodger's casket was placed in the ground. There were record numbers of people who attended his wake and funeral. Our football team forfeited the game. That was probably a good thing, because coach Riley had been fired anyway.

'More changes,' I sighed.

Every day, slowly but surely, things I remembered changed. They were all small, though not unimportant. Rodger's death, coach Riley's departure and even the budding relationship between Brad and Tiffany. These things wouldn't cause the fall of communism in Russia not to happen, but I was starting to understand the ripple affect of time travel on a personal level. Rodger was gone. His mother and sister were going to move across country to live with her brother.

"A bunch of us are going to Mike's house," Tara said as we walked toward the cars. "You want to come?"

"No thanks," I said, drifting away. I'd been avoiding Tara. Hell, I'd been avoiding everyone since Rodger's death.

Pop drove home slowly. We were all quiet for the trip. I got home and changed into sweats and a tee-shirt. Pop saw and frowned.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Don't worry," I smiled sadly. "I'm not planning on getting drunk again for a while."

"I can understand that," he replied, trying to make it sound light. "You did such a good job the last time."

"I'm going for a jog," I said. "I need to think."

"Don't you think you've done enough of that already?" mom asked in concern. "You haven't said more than two words for days now." I didn't have an answer for her.

"Can I come John?" Cindy asked.

"Not this time," I smiled at her, rubbing her head playfully. What I wouldn't do for the older version of her to be here right now.

"You want to take the car?" pop asked.

"I think that sort of defeats the whole jogging motif," I smiled. "I may go over a friends afterward, but I'll be home for dinner."

"Okay," pop said. Mom smiled nervously. I didn't have any plans to visit anyone, but it would let them worry less if I was out a while. Besides, mom liked the idea of me being with friends. It wasn't something I did very much these days.

It really was a beautiful day. My school wasn't close, but I took my time and jogged there. I walked the track for a while to catch my breath. I didn't notice Ms. Valente until she moved next to me.

"For a guy who hates jogging, you're here an awful lot," she smiled.

"It helps me think," I said.

"Me too," she put in, losing her smile. "It really was a shame what happened to Rodger."

"Yes it was," I said a little curtly, not wanting to talk about it. She nodded in understanding.

Ms. Valente had been at the funeral. Most of the teachers had come. If not for Rodger, then for those of us left behind.

"So, I hear you quit football," she said, changing the subject. "Thinking about joining track?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "You might as well give up. I'm never going to join track."

"Then are you going to rejoin the team now that coach Riley is gone?" she guessed.

"No," I replied. I was done with football.

"You know, you've been pretty quiet in school these last few days," Ms. Valente said, her tone obviously concerned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm fine," I said. I liked Ms. Valente. She was kind and frankly, nice to look at, but I had no desire to talk to her.

"Okay," she frowned, but then shrugged and obviously decided to let it go. "I'm going to my office to pick up some papers. After that I'm going home. I can give you a ride if you want."

"My legs are tired," I sighed, suddenly not wanting to deal with the long jog home. "A ride sounds nice."

"Meet me at my car," she smiled.

We were on the road in a few minutes. I was daydreaming as we went. Ms. Valente tried to start a conversion once or twice, but I wasn't in the mood. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to rest. She took the hint and remained quite. The only problem was that because my eyes were closed I didn't see the other car coming until the accident was over.

"On come on!" I cried, staring up into the sky.

"John, are you okay?" Ms. Valente cried. She was clearly shaken.

"I'm fine," I said, getting out of the car. The guy in the other car was yelling and cursing almost nonstop as he made his way over. Poor Ms. Valente got out of the car and tried to reason with him, but he wasn't in the mood.